


Watercolors

by themageofspace



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Collegestuck, Cuties, F/M, Fluff, Humanstuck, Jadekat - Freeform, artist!jade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 20:01:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themageofspace/pseuds/themageofspace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"There seemed to be nothing else in the world, nothing in her surroundings. For all he could tell, her mind was a canvas as blank as the one in front of her, both waiting to be filled with swirls of colors and shapes and emotion."</p>
<p>Karkat Vantas finds himself fascinated by that artistic girl he keeps seeing around campus. </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>Jadekat with bits of Rosemary here and there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watercolors

There seemed to be nothing else in the world, nothing in her surroundings. For all he could tell, her mind was a canvas as blank as the one in front of her, both waiting to be filled with swirls of colors and shapes and emotion.

Before long, the white space of the canvas in front of the girl was bit by bit being obscured as she captured the life in every form scurrying around here. She didn’t flinch when a man walked by with a leashed dog, the furry beast nudging the back of the easel with his nose. He face remained calm and concentrated, her paintbrush steady in her hand. 

Karkat Vantas had seen this girl around campus often enough to recognize her. It had only been by some miracle of fate that he’d decided to go out and use a small fraction of his bank account to indulge himself in a coffee that wouldn’t taste piss-poor and watery to his taste buds. He had noticed her when he had turned to find an empty seat in the cafe to set up his crappy old laptop and begin writing a paper for whichever class he had been assigned one; the holidays were looming around the corner and Karkat had found himself caring less and less about his work, instead counting the days until he’d be able to catch a break, albeit while being crammed into a small, shitty apartment with his boring older brother.

He had been almost settled into his seat when he’d glanced out of the window for no reason other than the common means of looking for a distraction to justify procrastination. He’d seen her and his mind had jumped to the several times he’d seen her around, and easel and canvas under one arm and a paint spattered, worn bag slung over the arm, containing only what he could assume were art supplies. He’d always been slightly curious to see where she’d been heading off to in such a rush, with that dreamy look in her eyes behind the big, round glasses, and now was his chance to finally see her at work. He’d gathered the meager batch of belongings he’d brought off campus with him and made his way to the park bench a ways behind her.

His coffee soon lost its appealing warmth, and the tips of his nose and ears grew red in the chilly air, but still he stayed. The time passed by as he did his schoolwork, looking up to glance over the bespectacled girl’s shoulder every few moments, watching as she recreated the scene in front of the two of them. Karkat smiled wistfully as he went back to work, wishing he could know this girl and her art. When he next spared a glance in her direction, he found she was gone. Sighing, he packed up and returned to his dorm to warm up and maybe see if anyone wanted to do anything worthwhile, since he was fed up with writing papers.

\---

Jade Harley returned to her dorm room, her cheeks tinted pink with cold but her belly warm with happiness. There was nothing in the world that had the ability to bring her more joy than painting, and today she had had an audience. He had tried to be inconspicuous, she decided, by coming out of that coffee shop—out of the warmth and comfort and out into the harsh air—to sit on the old wooden park bench a yard or two behind her. She assumed he had been sure she hadn't noticed him; she'd often been told by friends and onlookers that she seemed to be unaware of the world while she painted, and yet it was the complete opposite. If anything she became overly aware of her surroundings, noticing every small change in the environment so that she may incorporate it somehow into her work, while still being able to lose herself in the brushstrokes.

She was a creature of spontaneity, acting on impulses, habit, and lack thereof most of the time. She was known for dropping everything to run and grab her sketchbook or a blank canvas. She never allowed her artistic urges and ideas to be repressed if she could help it. In a way, her art was the only constant thing in her life. She supposed she could blame that aspect of her persona on her childhood, which had been nothing near constant. After her grandfather had died when she was four years old, Jade, having no other known relations, was bounced around the foster care system. She hadn’t really minded at first as a child, looking to everything as a new adventure, but as the years went on she grew tired and began looking for constants to hold onto.

When she had been nine years old, an art teacher had taken Jade aside her and told her, “Jade, you have an extraordinary artistic ability for someone of your age. If you set your mind to it, you can never go wrong and the masterpieces that can appear on a canvas through your fingertips will be endless.” 

Of course, Jade hadn't really understood what the woman had meant at the time, but she started drawing more and more, doodling in the corners of the pages in her notebooks, teaching herself how to make art. And so it became the constant she had been searching for, her go-to form of expression in times of hurting, happiness, anger, everything. 

The boy who had been watching her paint that morning was a student at the same university she attended. She had seen him around a few times, though she didn’t know much about him, other than the fact that he had some sort of weird name. Karlos Vintage? Something like that. He had olive skin and a head of dark, messy hair that obviously hadn’t been trimmed in a few months. He was tall and skinny, but not scrawny, and he had a sort of awkward and yet entitled posture to him. He was exactly the kind of person that Jade longed to paint. 

\---

The next Saturday, Karkat slept in longer than he had meant to, shooting straight up in his bed when he groggily opened his eyes and realized that it was almost noon, and he was bound to be running late at this point. 

His close friend Kanaya had invited him to a gathering; a party of sorts, he guessed. He ungracefully leapt out of bed, gathered a towel, a change of clothes, and his toiletries and rushed out of his dorm and down the hallway into the communal showers. He rushed through his shower routine, sparing only a few moments of relaxation as the hot water grazed his skin, and soon he was back in his room, gathering his things to meet Kanaya in the designated meeting place.

Kanaya Maryam was a petite and graceful woman, majoring in fashion design. She and Karkat had been distant friends in high school, occasionally associating due to their slew of mutual friends. They had become close during their first year at college, both finding in the other something familiar and comforting as they were pushed into an environment full of new things. A few more of their friends from high school attended the same university, but Karkat didn't see much of them nowadays.

Kanaya had recently acquainted herself with a new girlfriend, and Karkat had endured what seemed to him like hours of what he deemed to be ‘girl-talk.’ He endured it and allowed Kanaya to indulge herself, happy for his friend. The reason for this gathering was to allow Kanaya’s friends to meet said girlfriend and vice versa. The happy couple wanted to be involved in the other’s life as much as they could, which included mixing with the other’s friends, et cetera, et cetera. Kanaya had explained these plans to Karkat quite a few times over the past few weeks, letting him know very explicitly how important it was to her that he meet Rose—that is, Kanaya’s ‘other half’. 

So, imagine Karkat’s surprise when he arrived in the common area of Kanaya’s dorm building, only to be greeted not only by the short, dark hair of his best friend, but the round glasses and green, smiling eyes of one particular painter.


End file.
